Several years ago, I took a project that required me to show up at someone's office every day for several months. It's the kind of situation that I do my best to avoid because it pulls me out of my office and vacates the center of my world. I took the contract because I felt it was the answer to my current situation, against my reservations, and I focused on the aspects that were beneficial to me. During that time, while I was feeling displaced and my daily living pattern was disrupted, I found myself fantasizing about changing careers. I started researching landscape architecture, and started imagining what it would be like to go back to school, to learn that body of knowledge, and to do that kind of work with clients. It was invigorating.
I started to look at the world around me in a different way. My inner gardner suddenly woke up about the time I turned 30, and while apartment living in Phoenix had kept me from really having the garden I wanted, I always had a patio filled with potted plants. Now, my imagination was turned on my condo's backyard, where I started to dream what could be created. My perspective on the garden, my garden eyes, continued to evolve as I started to really examine how the sun crossed the sky above my yard, identifying the path of the shadows through the day and the pattern of shadow and light through the year. This was information I would need to select the best plants for each location, and to build the most effective garden in my little space.
This week, I find myself again facing issues related to changes in my working life because of an offer I've received. I'm struggling with several aspects of it because even though it would allow me to remain in my home office (most of the time) it shifts my attention to efforts going on in another part of the country. The job would also involve travel, which would disrupt the peaceful running of my home and business for short bursts of time. I've thought through the impace of leaving the weather of Phoenix, dealing with rain and snow and cold randomly as I visit other parts of the country. I'm struggling to see how the center of my world would be impacted if I decide to accept this opportunity.
And today, I discoverd the work of Robert Adzema, an artist who is known for his garden sundials. I have learned to watch the path of the moon across the sky, and I've started to understand the path of the sun through my garden. Adzema has mastered this knowlege, and from him, I have learned how the path of the sun and the construction of a sundial changes based on the exact location and orientation of the garden. I'm starting to understand the sundial as an interpretation of a specific point in relationship to the sky, and to understand that I can use the sundial as a metaphor for finding my own place in the universe.
- The sundial is a physical device that takes advantage of the nuances of light that already exist in that space.
Like the sundial, I want to feel my connection to the universe around me. - The sundial reflects the shape and orientation of the earth.
Like the sundial, I am a product of my environment, and within me, I can find the essence of human experience. - The gnomon, the sundial's arm, must be pointed towards the North Star (in the northern hemisphere).
Like the sundial, my spiritual practices keep me pointing towards my own true north. - The length and angle of the gnomon must be adjusted for the latitude of the location. Without this adjustment, the sundial will work (cast a shadow) but will not accurately read the time.
Like the sundial, I have to stay aware of my larger environment and respond accordingly. - By paying attention to the sun and it's path, a person can be oriented more accurately than a compas (which has to be adjusted to the difference between true north and magnetic north).
Like the sundial, as I learn about my place in the universe, I can find my center without any external aids or support. I don't need other people to find my own center. - A sundial that works in one location will not work in another location without adjustments.
Like the sundial, I can adjust myself so that I remain true no matter where I go.
Now, I can start to understand my life as a sundial, a specific person located at the intersection of the earth and sky.
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